Fade to Black
by Blackletter
Summary: The Potters are dead and Voldemort is gone. His followers have fallen and the Death Eater trials have ended. Severus Snape is the new Potions Professor at Hogwarts, but the memories of Voldemort's reign of terror have not been forgotten and one who knows
1. Darkness

Fade to Black

Disclaimer: I own nothing (being a poor starving college student does that to a person)

Summary: The Potters are dead and Voldemort is gone. The Death Eaters have fallen and the string of trials and sentencing has finally ended. Severus Snape has just begun his employment as Potions Professor at Hogwarts, but the memories of Voldemort's reign of terror have not been forgotten and someone who knows the darkness of Snape's past will not forgive. 

Rating: PG-13 for whatever violence or foul language that may pop up 

Morrighan Snape-fic Classification: C (If you don't know what this means, go read "Long Road to Damascus". It's amazing. 

A/N Snape is, in my opinion, the most fascinating character of JK's books. So, after devouring many a Snape-fic, I decided to try my hand at it. This is my very first fanfic, so I hope you enjoy. (BTW-I apologize in advance for my inconsistent spelling. My father's British, my mother American, so my spelling can vary between either of them.) 

Fade to Black

by Blackletter

Chapter I: Darkness

Severus Snape sat in his office, a dark, gloomy room in the corner of the dungeons (it suited him perfectly) and graded papers for the third years. His hair fell across his face but he ignored the veil of thin strands as he combed through the pile of inane ideas and poorly written paragraphs.

_...Dorian Williams made many potions. He was a English guy and invented many potions but he's most well nown for the invention of the Translinguae potion. It makes a person able to understand a languege for as long as it the potion lasts..._

Snape wielded his quill with ferocity, striking the scroll with crimson ink. The paper was obviously ill researched or the student would have known that the Translinguae potion was the _only_ potion invented by Williams. And that was just the beginning. Spelling errors galore, awkward writing, vague facts, and overall terrible presentation, all were present in abundance. Snape gave it a score that was well below passing, and set it in the pile of graded, and generally horrible, papers.

Severus had only been teaching for a few months now; he was the newest, and by far the youngest of the Hogwarts staff and still felt out of place and insecure as a colleague of respected professors who had taught _him_ when he first arrived at the school. He was hardly much older than many of the seventh years, who at first they seemed to think that his youth meant that they could get away with bending the rules in his class. Within the first week, Snape shattered that belief. He wanted to prove to them that he was their Professor, not "one of the chums". He succeeded admirably. Two months into his first year of teaching and he already had acquired a reputation for running a no-nonsense class. And if the students didn't like him, called him foul names under their breath when they thought he wasn't listening...well, he was paid to educate them, not to be their friend.

Severus scratched a grade on another pathetic paper and set the quill down to stretch fingers that had become stiff after an hour of marking. His right hand had always been a bit sore since he had received that glancing blow from an Auror's curse. The pen dripped ink on the page, making it look as if it were spattered with blood. Snape grimaced at the mess and lifted the pen with his left hand. He had always been a bit ambidextrous, so it had been fairly simple to train himself to use his left hand just as well as the right- a skill that saved his life when his right wrist was too clumsy with pain to perform the intricate counter-curse for the deadly hex an Auror once threw his way.

Sighing and running a hand through his lank hair he prepared to tackle the scrolls again, but the old clock hanging on the wall chimed, signaling that supper in the great hall would soon begin. Severus was sorely tempted to remain in his dark hole in the Hogwarts dungeon, free from the spiteful whispers and snickers of students and the wary glances of the professors who acted as if they expected him to show his black Death Eater colours at any moment. But Headmaster Dumbledore- _Albus_, Snape thought_, I'm not a student anymore. I can call him Albus now_- had told him that he was too withdrawn and had asked him to try to socialize with his colleagues more. He said it as the only way to earn their trust. Snape personally thought that he would never earn their trust, nor did he deserve it, but he couldn't disappoint Albus. Not after everything the old wizard had done for him. With another sigh, Severus stood and rubbed his sore hand as he reluctantly left his dark sanctuary and ventured towards the great hall.

The hall was decked out for the Halloween feast with bats circling about the ceiling and huge jack-o-lanterns, grown and carved by Hagrid, grinning about the room. It was impressive...to a first year. Severus had already endured seven years worth of Halloween feasts during his time as a student and not much had changed since he had first walked into the bat and pumpkin festooned room when he was eleven. He ignored all the festive trappings and stalked to his seat at the high table. Students trickled in, chatting carelessly with friends and expressing delight at the special decorations for the day. Snape watched with cold black eyes as each group wandered to their respective table. Most of the students avoided his dark gaze and walked just a little bit faster to get to their seats and away from Snape's eyes. Some were brave enough to whisper something (certainly unflattering) to friends causing a fit of nervous titters and giggles. Only one, a Hufflepuff surprisingly, a fifth year named John Price, was daring enough to meet Snape glare for glare, even if it was only for a moment, before Price lowed his eyes back to the floor in seeming defeat.

A few minutes later, Headmaster Dumbledore entered and took his usual seat next to Snape. His eyes were as bright as ever as he smiled over the cavorting students like a benevolent father.

"Severus!" he exclaimed jubilantly, "I glad you came. You been hiding yourself away down in the dark for too long" Dubledore's blue eyes seemed to peer into Severus' soul, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into his dark dungeon and avoid that all-knowing gaze. But Dumbledore was determined to drag him into the light and laughter of the hall, so, for Dumbledore, he remained. Severus sighed, and pulled his robes closer around him like a blanket of shadow, separating himself from the outside as if shielding his black thoughts under black folds of fabric. 

***

"I can't believe he assigned us a four foot scroll on Halloween!" Olivia Whitney whined from her seat in the middle of the Hufflepuff table, her round and rosy face taut with displeasure.

"Well, I'm not doing it." Ian Maughan, who sat across from her, said.

Olivia's pout opened into a gasp of surprise. "But you'll get in trouble! Snape'll-"

"Bugger Snape! I'm not going to spend Halloween doing homework."

Olivia eyes grew wide with shock at Ian's language, but she giggled nevertheless. "Oh, Ian, you're going to lose us house points," she scolded him lightly.

"So? We aren't going to win the cup anyway. Hufflepuff never does. So, if we're going to lose, I'm going make the most of it." Hazel eyes sparkled mischievously. "How many points do you think I can lose if I throw the Itching Potion on the Ravenclaws next lesson?"

"Ian!" Olivia shrieked with a shocked smile. "Don't you dare! You'll get detention for sure?"

"So, what's the worst he can do? Make me pickle frog eyes?"

"Scrub the tables with your sleeve," one student suggested.

"Make you clean out ingredient jars with your hands. Yuck!" another called out.

"Kill you."

The conversation went still as they all looked at John Price. He was a little strange, so the other Hufflepuffs usually shunned him, but Ian Maughan had befriended the lonely boy two years back, attempting to draw him into the fold. It didn't always work. There was a pause as the Hufflepuff group stared at him with varying expressions of disdain. Olivia was the first to break the silence.

"Don't be stupid! He may be an evil, slimy git, but he's a teacher. Teachers don't kill students."

"He's not a teacher!" John insisted.

"Well he sure as hell isn't the school motivational speaker," Ian Maughan retorted in light sarcasm.

"He's a Death Eater, I'm sure of it! If anyone's a follower of You-Know-Who, it's Snape."

At the very mention of the Dark Lord and his followers, the table fell into a state of frightened silence. Some even looked over their shoulders nervously while others trembled as they tried to conceal feelings of horror and grief. Only one year had passed since Voldemort's defeat by infant wizard Harry Potter, and the experiences of that dark time were still too close. As usual, Olivia was the first to recover and her fear quickly shifted to vexation.

She snorted indelicately in derision at Price. "Dumbledore wouldn't hire a Death Eater as a professor. That's just dumb. You know what I think?" Olivia continued with her typical tactlessness, "I think that you just act weird to get attention. I think you can't handle the fact that your parents were killed by Death Eaters so you make up these paranoid stories so that people will listen to you."

"That's not true!" John shouted, but Olivia talked right over him.

"Well you know what? I think you're pathetic," Olivia spat. "Lots of us lost family but you don't see us going and acting like freaks, do you?"

"Take that back!" John yelled.

"Freak!"

"Take it back!" John Price drew his wand just as Professor Sprout, hearing the escalating argument, arrived at the table with her own wand out and ready to prevent any trouble."

"Mister Price, Miss Whitney, what is going on here?" Professor Spout asked with a solemn expression on her normally cheerful face. 

"He called a professor a Death Eater!"

"Mister Price, is this true?"

"Professor Sprout," John stuttered, "I-"

"You did! We all heard it!"

"Miss Whitney," Sprout said sternly. "Don't interrupt."

"I did," John muttered. "I said Snape was a Death Eater." He met Professor Sprout's eyes and continued boldly. "And I'd say it again because he really is one."

Professor Sprout's expression became grim. "Mister Price, please come with me."

Sprout had a quick word with the Headmaster, and before long, John Price was trailing behind the old wizard towards the Headmaster's office. By Sprout's face, John had known he was in trouble and expected detention, but he didn't think he'd be in this much trouble. Sprout had interrupted Headmaster Dumbledore at his meal and now John was being dragged, alone, to Dumbledore's office. He hoped he wasn't being expelled.

"Peppermint fudge," Dumbledore said to the gargoyle that stood watch. The stairs were revealed and the two ascended to the Headmaster's office. "Please, have a seat," Dumbledore said when they arrived at the top of the tower. John sat nervously on the edge of a wooden chair, keeping his eyes on his shoes and twisting his robe in his hands with anxiety.

"Professor Sprout tells me that you believe Professor Snape is a Death Eater." John remained silent so Dumbledore continued. "These last few years have been hard on all of us, and we've lived so long in fear that sometimes it's hard to let go." Albus Dumbledore sighed pensively. "I can not erase all your fears with a few words, but I can say this: I would not endanger my students and I would not hire a man that I didn't trust. I trust Professor Snape. And I can assure you, his loyalties do not lie with Voldemort."

John shivered as the Headmaster said the dreaded name, but he still did not speak.

"Now, John, I don't want to hear any more rumors about your Professors."

"Yes, sir," John replied quietly.

"And remember, what's past is gone. Don't let yourself be trapped back in those awful times."

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore sighed again. "You may go now."

John Price rose, and wordlessly left.

***

Snape stalked down the hallways of Hogwarts, his black robes flowing behind him like a devil's black wings, descending into his dungeon for the first class of the day, fifth year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Dumbledore had spoken to him earlier that morning in the privacy of the Headmaster's office, telling him he was perhaps a "bit too intimidating" for some of the students. The Headmaster asked him if he might perhaps try to be a tad more approachable, maybe wear a colour other than black. Severus had refused.

"But, Severus, why?" Dumbledore asked. "Your days as a Death Eater are long over. Why still wear those black robes?"

"Why do you wear a beard?" Snape countered.

"I suppose because it's become a part of me."

"Just so, black is a part of me," Severus replied. He turned to the door, wordlessly saying that the discussion was over. "Good-day, Albus."

Snape was quiet throughout breakfast and avoided all of Albus' attempts at conversation. He left the hall at the earliest possible opportunity, detouring to his room to collect some papers he had graded the night before.

As he neared the classroom, he heard the shouts and yelling of a class in chaos. His eyes narrowed in anger as he quickened his pace to bring some order to the class before they tore the room apart or blew something up.

He burst through the threshold and shouted, "What is the meaning of this misconduct!" Not a single student was in his or her chair. Some sat blubbering on the ground while others yelled and argued with gestures made vehement with agitation. One Ravenclaw girl just stood without a sound, staring with wide, almost lifeless eyes at the wall in front of the room. Severus followed the girl's gaze.

Black and Green. A symbol he knew all to well and had hoped never to see again. A death's-head, a skull, painted across the wall. From its mouth, like a slithering tongue, a serpent wound it's way over the stones.

From floor to ceiling, the Dark Mark stretched across his classroom wall.

***

__

Continued in Chapter II (coming soon to a computer near you)

More Author's Notes (feel free to ignore them): Please give me feedback! As this is my first fanfic, I'm desperate to know how I did. Is it too long, too short, too boring...any recommendations or ideas will be appreciated and considered.

The title comes from both the common ending of a screenplay (_fade to black_) and/or from the lyrics of the Sarah McLauchlan song "Black"

"As the walls are closing in

And the colors fade to black..."


	2. Shadows

Fade to Black

A/N: Thanks to all the loved, revered, and adored reviewers who commented on Chapter I. Getting such nice comments made me even more eager to write! There is an extended thank you after the fic. Special thanks to TheRogue, who noted that the title of this fic is also the name of a Metallica song. So now you have three origins from which the title may be derived. Extra, extra special thanks to Incitatus, my new beta. Also, I added some small edits to chapter 1. Nothing major, just a little cleanup.

Fade to Black

By Blackletter

Chapter II: Shadows

"Purgo!"

The Mark remained just as vivid as before.

"Clarissimus!" Snape tried again to erase the skull and snake painted on the wall, but though the grey stones around were almost sparkling from the magical scrubbing, the Dark Mark had not faded even a little. The class had clustered into frightened little groups, whispering and shuddering, staying close to one another as if together, they could keep away the darkness that the Mark implied.

"Who did this?" Snape asked in a dangerously quiet voice. Every student looked at him, but not one responded. He began to prowl about the room looking for a guilty face, a paint-stained hand...anything to indicate who the culprit may be. But there was nothing but a uniform feeling of shock and fear among the class. If the miscreant was in this class, he was an impeccable actor. Severus lashed them all with his icy glare. 

"When I find out who our vandal is, I'll see that person expelled faster than you can snap a wand." he snarled. 

It would be impossible to teach with the class in this terror-filled state; the students wouldn't hear a word he said with that Mark behind him. And Snape himself wasn't thrilled with the notion of spending the day with the Dark Mark staring accusingly at his back.

Severus sighed in frustrated anger. "Class is cancelled until _that_" he jerked his chin in the direction of the Mark, "has been cleaned up." The students slowly broke away from their flocks and numbly packed away their things. As they prepared to file out the door, Snape spoke loudly over the rustle of scrolls and quills being stuffed into bags. "But just because class is cancelled doesn't mean you get to laze around your common rooms. I expect your four foot essay on the origins of newt bile-based potions tomorrow."

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws left the room not with the delight that a cancelled potions class usually receives, but silent relief.

When all the students had left, Snape turned to the Dark Mark that was emblazoned on his wall and stared at it, following every contour and line as his hand unconsciously drifted to rest over his left forearm.

* * *

"Who do think did it?" Olivia asked, walking down the corridor to the Hufflepuff common room with John and Ian, who stood between the two as a buffer, just in case his friends decided to have a rematch of last night's argument.

John Price shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe some Slytherin thought it'd be a funny joke."

"Slytherins aren't the only ones with a twisted sense of humour, isn't that right _Ian_." she looked at Ian half-accusingly.

"Don't go jumping to conclusions, now," Ian said defensively. "I didn't do it. Painting the Dark Mark on a classroom wall is definitely _not_ funny. Even to me."

"You don't think it could have been a...a Death Eater, do you?" Olive whispered. John paled at the suggestion and even Ian seemed a little unsure as he answered.

"I don't think a Death Eater would mark a classroom like that. It just doesn't make sense. Besides, I'm sure Dumbledore can keep any Death Eater out of the school."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," John muttered.

"Oh, come on!" Olivia snapped impatiently. "You aren't still on about Snape, are you?"

"Do you honestly think it was coincidencethat the Dark Mark was in _Snape's _classroom."

"John," Ian warned, "Let it go. You already got into deep trouble once."

"No! I can't just 'let it go'!" John was visibly becoming more agitated and his voice cracked. "They killed them! My parents! They killed them and then they laughed about it! Snape is one of them, I know it!"

"John," Olivia said looking about her nervously at the passing students for loiterers. "You're making a scene. People are going to start staring."

"I don't give a damn if they stare!" John's voice was rising and his fingers curled into tight fists. And indeed, now students were starting to slow their stride to look at John Price, psycho Hufflepuff.

"Calm down," Ian attempted to soothe the rising tempers. "The last thing I want is to have to hex you senseless to keep you from killing each other."

"But John's acting like a nutter again." Olivia protested.

"You're the nutter," John retorted. "To not see what right under your big ugly nose!"

Blood rushed to Olivia's face as she reddened with anger. "How _dare_ you!" She whipped her wand out of her robes and John swiftly followed. 

Ian's own wand came out just as the two began hurling their first hexes.

"_Serpencapilo_!"

"_Nasrobus_!"

Olivia's hair promptly turned into a squirming mass of snakes like a round and rosy faced Medusa. She started shrieking wildly when a forked tongue flickered in her face. She was terrified of reptiles. John, meanwhile, acquired a bright red nose swollen to the size of his fist. As more curses came spitting from their mouths, Ian raised his own wand and joined in the fray. Professor McGonagall chose just that time to come around the corner. Her mouth thinned into a stern line and her eyes flashed at the chaos that was being perpetrated in the middle of the hall.

"_Finite Incanatem_!" All the hexes that had been thrown vanished under McGonagall's more powerful spell. John and Olivia ceased duelling and cast their eyes to the ground with guilt of being caught in the act. Ian, more brave (or stupid) than his fellows, cast one last little hex at the two. McGonagall's mouth, if possible, tightened in even further disapproval. "_Accio wand_!" and Ian's wand flew into her hand, but not before his classmates robes were turned a traffic stopping shade of florescent yellow.

"Mister Maughan!" McGonagall snapped. "Miss Whitney, Mister Price," McGonagall walked towards them, each step clicking on the stone floor like the tick of a time bomb. "You should be ashamed of yourselves! Duelling in the hallways! Have you anything to say for yourselves!"

"No professor," the three muttered.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff for you, Whitney and Price, for fighting and thirty points for Maughan, for both the fight itself and failing to desist. And a detention for all three of you!" McGonagall gave all the lingering children a stern look and the students who had stopped to watch the altercation suddenly remembered somewhere else they should be, and hurried away. "See Mister Filch tonight to arrange detention."

"Yes professor," Ian said, speaking for all three.

"Good. Now hurry to class. And no more antics." McGonagall's look was enough to discourage any further conversation so the three Hufflepuffs quickly walked past the professor and sped, silently, to their common room.

* * *

After supper, Ian, John and Olivia trudged to Filch's office. Or, at least, John and Olivia trudged. Ian skipped down the corridor as if he were walking to Hogsmeade to play, rather than heading towards the worst punishment Filch could think up.

"Cheer up, guys, it's only detention." Olivia and John glared at their over-chipper friend. "I've had tons of them."

John snorted. "Of course _you _would've. Not everyone likes getting into trouble."

"My chances of being prefect next year are ruined!" Olivia bemoaned.

"Aw, don't worry, Livi," Ian said, "One detention isn't going to kill you. Or your hopes of being a prefect."

Olivia said nothing, but just pouted at Ian.

Shortly, they arrived at Filch's office, and rapped on the door. They heard heavy footsteps in the room beyond and then the door was flung open. Filch glared down at them.

"What do you want?" he said in a belligerent whine. Miss Norris weaved in and out around his legs and stared at the Hufflepuff trio with lantern eyes.

"We're here for detention, sir," Ian replied calmly.

"Ah, detention," Filch's eyes brightened noticeably at the prospect of imposing punishment. "I have just the thing for you evil children, a punishment recommended by Severus." He ducked back into his office quickly.

"Oh no," John whispered.

Filch reappeared with three buckets and a scrub for each of them. "Go clean the vandalism in the Potions room. You're not to leave until every speck of paint is gone." Filch chuckled wickedly. He turned away, dismissing them. Closing the door, he muttered under his breath, "More generous than children like that deserve...don't you agree, Miss Norris?" And then the door latched shut leaving three Hufflepuffs, armed with buckets and sponges out in the hallway with orders to scour the Dark Mark from Snape's own lair. John summarised their feelings with a groan.

"I hate this."

The dungeons were dark and more frightening at night than the harmless corridors of bustling students that they remembered during the day. The air was perfectly still, and filled with the cacophony of unreal silence. In the night every room became a mausoleum and every breath became a scream. They crept to the Potions room in a huddle, like herd of deer believing that strength in numbers will keep them safe from predators. Even Ian's usually irrepressible cockiness had vanished in the shadows.

They knocked lightly on the door, almost afraid to break the stillness of the air. The door swung open revealing a shadow even darker than the rest, a shadow with a face: Snape's. He looked down at them without saying a word. John began to shudder uncontrollably and it took Ian's steadying hand to keep him steady.

"We're here for detention, professor," Olivia whispered, holding the bucket before her as if to prove the truth of her words and shield herself with that truth.

The door opened wider to allow the three students to slip inside. The Dark Mark gazed down at them and seeming larger, more powerful in the dim light. It almost seemed to sneer at them. John looked up to see that same sneer mirrored on Snape's face. He shuddered again and wished he the power to erase that sneer of his face, just as the Auror's had erased the sneers of the Death Eaters that killed his parents. They did not sneer at death when he came for them. Their sneers were gone forever...but so were his parents.

"I expect you to scrub every bit of paint off this wall," Snape spoke softly, but as condescending as always. "Not a fleck of paint should remain when you're done." He turned and with a hawk-like swoop, he scooped some papers off his desk and swept into his office leaving behind three Hufflepuffs, the Dark Mark, and the night. 

When Ian broke the nervous silence, both Olivia and John jumped in surprise. "Well, unless we want to be here all night, we'd better get started," Ian said, magically filling his bucket with suds and water. Olivia followed suit, but John remained still, staring at the Mark like one lost in a nightmare, with the occasional shudder, a glissando of fear, coursing down his body.

"Oy, John!" Ian said sharply to break John Price out of his reverie. He did not succeed.

"Johnny," Olivia called, waving one hand over his vacant eyes. Still, John did not respond. "John!" she shouted, hitting him in the shoulder.

"Ow! What!"

"Quit spacing! We've got work to do!"

John looked about the room blankly like a sleeper waking from a particularly unreal dream. His eyes fixed again on the Dark Mark.

"John," Ian murmured. "Try to forget it while we get it cleaned off." John gave a small, timid nod. "Alright then." He plunged the sponge into the water and began to scrub away at the black paint.

Hours later, they gave up on soap and water and found some old knives, too bent or rusted to slice potion ingredients, and resorted to scraping, scratching or chiselling the paint off instead. Around midnight, Snape emerged from his office, looked at the students, then glanced at them again, as if he didn't trust weary eyes to show him the truth.

"You're still here?" he snarled. "You should have been done hours ago." His ink black eyes narrowed. "Unless you spent more time goofing off than working."

"No, professor," Olivia answered boldly. "We haven't been goofing around. The paint's really hard to get off."

"We're almost done," Ian added. "Only a few more inches of snake to go."

"Finish quickly," he ordered them irritably. "I want to lock up this room soon."

"Yes, professor."

The Hufflepuffs worked as hard as only a focused Hufflepuff can, cleaning the wall as quickly as possible. Half an hour, one impatient Snape and three tired Hufflepuffs later, the stone was back to its inglorious but safe grey. Professor Snape dismissed them with a sneer, and locked the classroom door while the three students dragged themselves towards the Hufflepuff tower.

Ian mumbled the password.

"What was that, sir?" the painting guarding the entrance, a doublet and tights asked.

"I said _Busy Badgers_! Now let us in you pantyhose-wearing git!"

"Humph! No need to be so rude." The painting swung open letting them in. Olivia parted from the boy's company without a word, stumbling toward the girls' dormitory. Ian and John trudged up the stairs to the room they shared with two other Hufflepuff boys.

Their dorm mates were fast asleep when they arrived, and Ian soon joined them as he crawled into bed not even bothering to remove his robes. Thus, no one was awake to notice John slipping back out of the room and leaving Hufflepuff tower.

* * *

John Price crept through the passages of Hogwarts careful to avoid Filch or his horrible accomplice, Miss Norris. When he found his way outside, he snatched one of the school brooms locked away in a shed for flying lessons. The lock was simple enough to get around, and within moments, John was flying to Hogsmeade.

He landed near a small stone house on the outskirts of the town. A light was shining from a single window, like the gaze of a one-eyed man. The occupant was still awake. John set his broom down just inside the garden gate and walked to the door. He knocked hesitatingly, and waited.

Within a few seconds, the door opened, silhouetting a large figure with broad shoulders dressed in dark blue robes.

"I was wondering what was keeping you, John," the person said in a deep, even voice.

"I had detention. I had to clean _it_ off the wall."

The man in the doorway nodded, not needing to ask what "it" was. "Come in, John, no need to stand out in the dark."

"Thank you, sir."

John was led into a pretty, but rather spartan sitting room. It had the air of a show house, nice enough, but not really lived in. John sat in an easy chair by the sparkling clean hearth and politely accepted a cup of tea from his host.

"So, did the Mark cause a stir?" he asked.

John nodded. "The whole school was terrified. And I can't blame them. Even knowing, every time I saw it I––" He broke off, unwilling or unable to say more.

"I understand, John," he replied softly, comfortingly. "And I thank you for what you did, I know it must have been hard for you. But thanks to "suspicious activity" occurring, I am within my authority to conduct an investigation. You know that Snape's hiding crimes and I know it, too. I'm certain I'll find something in a search of his rooms."

"What if you don't?" John asked softly, like a child afraid of the monsters under his bed.

"If I don't, we'll find another way to get the Death Eater."

John nodded, his brow furrowed in worry.

"Don't let your fear make you back out on me, John," he said with a hint of a warning in his voice. "I may need your help. Remember, he's the same kind of scum that killed your parents. He may have been at that raid himself. Don't let you parents down."

"I won't," John replied, his loyalty to his family stronger than his fear. John set the untouched tea down on a table and rose to leave.

"One thing before you go, John."

John turned to him curiously.

"I have something for you. Files from the Ministry. Snape's trial, his records, his confession...all were kept confidential. They said it was for security reasons, that they were afraid that if the knowledge were public, the Death Eaters still at large might try to get rid of him if they knew he'd ratted on them. But the real reason is that they were ashamed of the deal they made with a Death Eater. They knew that every decent wizard would protest, and rightly so.

"I have a copy of Snape's file. I want you to read it. 'Know thine enemy' as the Muggles say." The man handed a folder full of papers over to John.

"Th-Thank you," John replied, confused, and not quite sure what to say.

"Go on, now. It's late and you should get back to Hogwarts. You wouldn't want to fall asleep in your classes tomorrow."

John left and raced back to Hogwarts, eager to return to his room. He sneaked though the hallways undetected for the second time that night and entered his room quietly so as not to disturb his roommates. He changed into his nightclothes and lay down in his bed. But his thoughts were racing still and he couldn't fall asleep. The temptation of knowledge had him in its grip, and before long he snatched the file he'd been given from his trunk, and retrieved his wand from the headstand.

"_Lumos_," he whispered. He gingerly opened the folder as if afraid of what might be waiting for him inside. And by the light of his wand, he began to read."

* * *

A/N Part II: For any people who are curious about the Latin, _purgo_ is a verb meaning "I cleanse, purify. _Clarissimus_ is an adjective meaning "most clear". _Serpencapilo _comes from _serpens _(snake) and _capillatus _(hair). _Nasrobus _is from _nasus_ (nose) and _robus_ (red).

Now, the expanded thank you: Incitatus, Dauphin, Sakaya, Véronique, TheRogue, Starbright, Zedd, potionsmaster, Maeve, Inscriffany, caius julius (love the name, classicist that I am), Sphinx (thanks for the advice; I greatly admire your writing style), Rune Scriptor, Tess, B, MMM


	3. Secrets

A/N: My most profuse apologies for the tardiness of this chapter. I had my exam for summer class (intensive Greek.ah the sweet torture). And then the new term began, and I have been inflicted with much Latin and the onerous task of applying for graduate school. Damn real life for getting in the way of all the important things! (Like writing.)  
  
This chapter is dedicated to everyone who asked, "Where's the next chapter? What's taking so long?"  
  
Fade to Black  
  
by Blackletter  
  
Chapter III: Secrets  
  
It was some hours past midnight and no one stirred in the Hufflepuff tower. A few cats paced the floors searching for mice and every so often a frog let out a soft "urrach-urrach". The floorboards creaked just as ancient buildings always do--like a tired old man moaning as he settles himself into his favorite chair. And John Price, feeling more alert than he'd ever felt before, sat curled on top of his bedcovers with a glowing wand in one hand and a stack of papers in the other.  
  
* * *  
  
Albus Dumbledore walked through the dark halls of Azkaban. Here, even Albus' eyes could not retain their sparkle. Tall, black-shrouded Dementors passed by trailing with them a bitter chill and the sharp scent of death. Albus had to fight his deepest instinct to destroy the foul things each time one passed by. Evil, inhuman creatures. Lacking the potential for good that even the most wicked of humans possess.  
  
The air was cold and damp and stank of mold and decay like a tomb. And that's what it is, Albus thought, a tomb to bury the still-living bodies far from the light of day, a man-made hell to torture those deemed unworthy to live above with the good and productive members of society.  
  
And now, Dumbledore, respected wizard, champion of good, descended into the innermost circle of hell, reserved for traitors and Death Eaters.  
  
It was one Death Eater in particular whom Dumbledore sought now. He found him in a small cell located in an unlit annex far from his fellow inmates. The young man's hair was greasy and unwashed and his complexion was pasty from his months of dark confinement; in the dim light his white skin almost seemed to glow against his matted black hair and filthy black robes. He sat staring blankly at the soot-grey wall and was either unaware, or simply did not acknowledge Dumbledore's presence.  
  
"Severus," he whispered gently so as not to startle the young man, but even so, his voice seemed amplified in the stillness of the catacombs of Azkaban.  
  
Severus did not turn his blank gaze away from the wall. He sat unmoving as a statue. When he spoke, his voice was jagged and almost inaudible, like the way someone whose throat had been cut might speak. His voice was flat and faded, dead of all passion or emotion. It unnerved Albus more than the Dementors he'd passed.  
  
"So much for your promises, Headmaster." There was a long pause where neither spoke and the silence was nearly unbearable. "You told me that even if I betrayed Voldemort, helped you, that I'd still have to stand trial for the things I did as a Death Eater. And I accepted that. I knew I'd have to answer for my crimes. You said you'd do your best to help me, to make them understand all I did, all the sacrifices I made, all the things I'd risked to help you, but even so, I may spend the rest of my life condemned.and I accepted that, too." He shuddered then, and his voice cracked with distant pain. "What I can't accept is that I'm being locked away like some dirty little secret and no one has bothered to weigh the good I did against the crimes I committed. I've been here for five months now, waiting for a trial. Five months. And the Ministry seems set on dithering and delaying until I rot down here."  
  
"That's why I've come today," Albus replied once Severus' rant had ended. "I've been meeting with the Minister of Magic and I got him to set a date next week for the trial."  
  
Severus turned away from the wall and looked at Dumbledore through the iron alloy bars for the first time. "Next week?" Albus thought (hoped?) he saw a glimmer of longing in those empty black eyes. But that small glimmer was a failing spark compared to the fire that Albus remembered used to reside in Severus' eyes. A blazing passion to learn, to know. That driving curiosity that landed Snape in trouble on more than one occasion in his school days and even after, but fuelled his soul with purpose, was gone. Extinguished. Now, in the place where that fire once burned were only dead ashes, black and cold.  
  
Albus mourned for the loss, but knew that pity would only bring him Snape's scorn. "I know it's not much time to prepare, but I'll make sure that you get a fair trial. I'll do everything within my power to help you. I won't let you waste away down here in these dungeons." He paused, waiting for a response that didn't come.  
  
"Severus?" he prompted.  
  
But Severus had already turned his face back to the dank cell wall and gave no indication of hearing, or even caring.  
  
"Oh, Severus, what have they done?"  
  
* * *  
  
The trial of Severus Snape was a small, secret affair. Other than Snape himself, the only people present were Headmaster Dumbledore, Minister of Magic (a lanky, fidgety man by the name of Constans Yarbrough), Barty Crouch Sr., a pair of Dementors to watch the prisoner and two top notch Aurors.just in case. But in the hours that had passed, the criminal had sat quietly, watching the presentation of physical evidence and transcripts of witness accounts.  
  
Pale and filthy, Snape sat, chained to his chair in the center of the dreary room, never twitching or seeming to notice the cold chains biting his skin through threadbare robes. He sat with a distant, false stillness of one already in hell. Dementors flanked him, causing him to tremor now and then and Mr. Crouch paced about the floor, glaring hatefully at the accused Death Eater.  
  
"The man has admitted to his heinous crimes," Crouch said to the small council, spitting out words as if they were bitter on his tongue. "I confess to being most perplexed why we're even contemplating letting a self- declared Death Eater walk free. This trial is a farce, and I suggest we end it quickly."  
  
Too late for that, Albus thought wryly. Crouch had already spent the better part of the day gleefully recounting in detail, every bit of damning evidence against Snape.  
  
Mr. Crouch held up a sheet of paper clutched in his hand so that all could see. "I'm sure that with just the most cursory of glances at this confession, this. declaration of evil, you will all realize that this criminal," he whirled and pointed an accusing finger at Snape, "deserves to be thrown in the deepest pit of Azkaban with the rest of the villains."  
  
Through Mr. Crouch's tirade, Snape's expression did not waver. Only Albus noticed that Severus' eyes dulled and his jaw tensed when Crouch mentioned Azkaban. The young man was fast losing hope.  
  
Albus stood then, "Enough fancy oratory, Mr. Crouch. Let the council hear the confession."  
  
"Of course," Mr. Crouch cleared his throat and recited loudly, "I, Severus Celer Snape, confess that I have acted out of accordance with the laws set out by this ministry. I confess to being a member of the mutinous group known as the Death Eaters. I confess to being guilty of the crimes of treason, sedition, assault, and murder.  
  
Crouch looked up from the statement he was reading. "Those are the basic offenses. Is this not more than enough to convict the monster, or shall I go on?"  
  
"Please, continue, Mr. Crouch." Dumbledore said, evenly.  
  
Barty Crouch glanced incredulously at the Headmaster. "Very well then. The details as stated in the confession: participation in twenty-seven raids total. Fifteen were wizard targets, including the infamous McDaun incident. The rest were muggle raids. A total of eight individuals died directly by his hand. Later, as a member of the inner circle, he was responsible for overseeing all potions used by the Death Eaters. An unknown number died from the poisons he created. Are you now convinced, Mr. Dumbledore?"  
  
"I don't deny that Severus was a Death Eater." Albus replied calmly. "Nor do I deny that he committed the aforementioned crimes. That piece of paper you hold in your hand, Crouch, that piece of paper from which you were reading, I was there when Severus wrote it. Three years ago. In my office at Hogwarts on the day he came to me to turn himself in. The Ministry of Magic chose not to press charges then." Albus Dumbledore walked towards Snape, ignoring the foul Dementors nearby. "This young man served the Ministry for three years before Voldemort's downfall. It would be the greatest hypocrisy, not to mention ungrateful, if, after having risked great danger for our cause, we were to lock him away when he's no longer useful. Severus admitted to his crimes, and has already paid his penance. The information we received from him saved countless lives. I ask the council to consider this, when passing sentence."  
  
Mr. Crouch had a fine retort prepared, but before he could speak, the Minister of Magic, hitherto watching silently twiddling his quill in his hands, stood and addressed the small council. "I believe I have heard enough. Has all the evidence been presented?" Crouch nodded sharply in assent. "In that case, we will recess this court while the verdict of Severus Snape is decided." With that said, Minister Yarbrough rose and whisked away with the two Aurors. Crouch and Dumbledore followed close behind leaving the Dementors to return the prisoner to his cell to await judgment.  
  
* * *  
  
The Minister of Magic's office was a large, plush room with a high domed ceiling. Golden wood paneling covered the walls and the floor was cushioned by thick carpet. In the center of the room was an antique desk with silver inlay about the rim. Yarbrough arranged himself in his seat, his lanky body seemingly swallowed by the throne-like monstrosity. Dumbledore and Crouch sat across from the Minister of Magic in a pair of less imposing chairs.  
  
"Gentlemen," Yarbrough began before his guests had a chance to settle, "I've decided to dismiss the charges against Severus Snape."  
  
"What?!" Crouch exclaimed angrily, rising from his chair in his ire. "Are you mad? The man's a self confessed Death Eater!"  
  
"And a Ministry spy," Yarbrough reminded him. "Dumbledore's right. This Ministry could have prosecuted three years ago when Mr. Snape first turned himself in. But we did not. And Mr. Snape was of great use to us during those years, and has shown no sign of treachery against us."  
  
"You mean to say you're going to let him go scot-free! No punishment at all!"  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
Crouch slammed his hand into the desk in anger. "The man's a murderer! What about the families of those he's killed? You owe it to them to see this monster pay for his crimes!"  
  
"Severus Snape has already paid for his crimes," Dumbledore responded in a calm voice, even in the face of Crouch's loud protest. "He spent three years helping us at great risk to his life. We will never know exactly what he went through trying to keep up the charade to allay the suspicions of his fellow Death Eaters while also trying to avoid being killed by an over-enthusiastic Auror. One wrong move and both sides would have been out to exterminate him. And he spent five months in prison alone with his conscience. The young man has suffered quite enough."  
  
"So, you set this Death Eater loose in the world.what then?"  
  
"Actually, I planned to offer him a position at Hogwarts," Dumbledore replied with a hint of a smile, knowing what sort of response such a proposal would elicit from Crouch. And indeed, Dumbledore was not disappointed.  
  
There was a brief moment of stunned silence before Crouch erupted, "You are mad!" His eyes were veritably bulging from their sockets in anger. "A Death Eater. In a school. Teaching our children. The wizarding community won't stand for it!"  
  
"The wizarding community knows nothing of Severus' history," Dumbledore replied reasonably. "He was top of his class in school; I have no doubt the he will be an adequate professor."  
  
The Minister of Magic sighed, and running his hand through his hair said, "I'm afraid, Albus, that I must agree with Mr. Crouch on this matter. Is it really appropriate for a former Death Eater, reformed or no, to be teaching our children?"  
  
Mr. Crouch gave the Headmaster a smug, victorious smile, which Dumbledore chose not to notice.  
  
"Minister," the Headmaster said, his blue eyes grave, "A word with you alone, please?"  
  
Minister Yarbrough nodded curtly and with a sharp wave of his hand, dismissed Barty Crouch from the room. Scowling, and glaring at the old headmaster, Mr. Crouch skulked out of the office and shut the door firmly behind him with two Aurors in the hallway flanking the door eyeing his every move.  
  
"Well, Albus, what's this about? Snape at Hogwarts? What's your reasoning?"  
  
Albus Dumbledore steepled his fingers resting on his lap and leaned forward closer to the Minister. "Constans, my friend, Severus has just spent the last 5 months in Azkaban, the last three years before that, as a spy. He has no family. His friends are dead or locked away. In short, the boy has no place to go. We owe it to him to help him start his life over." A familiar twinkle sparkled in Dumbledore's eyes. "And I was not lying to you when I said I believe he'd make a proficient teacher."  
  
Yarbrough sighed again, desperately craving a double espresso, the substance, consumed in mass quantities, that fueled him through his days. "I'll let you have your way, Albus, for one reason only. There's no one I trust more than you to keep an eye on him. But there are two provisions that must be met. First, I'm placing an Auror in Hogsmeade to observe Snape and be nearby.just in case your trust is misplaced. Second, he's not to be involved in anything even slightly smacking of Dark Arts, or he's out."  
  
"I understand, Minister. And thank you."  
  
"Just make sure that Mr. Snape doesn't do anything to make me regret my decision."  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Author's Note the Second: My thanks to all who reviewed. It's a wonderful thing to know that somewhere out there, people are reading and enjoying the story. And for those of you who need an incentive to review (yes, I'll shamelessly bribe my way to more reviews), reviewing lets me know who you are.so I can go find your fics and read them!  
  
It occurred to me that this chapter is just packed full of big long wordy diatribes. Hope I wasn't boring anyone witless. I'll get back to the real plot next chapter, promise. This will probably be the only big "flashback" chapter. Though I can't guarantee since I don't really plan any of this in advance, I just sort of spatter everything on the page as it comes.  
  
Regarding Snape's middle name, the two main architects for Emperor Nero were named Severus and Celer. I tried and I tried, but in the end I just couldn't resist the obscure Classics pun.  
  
Just as an aside: you know you've had waaaaay too much Latin when you start noticing your Ablative Absolutes in your English.  
  
And, of course, I can't forget to give my thanks to my beta.  
  
O mea Incitata, optimus es, et te diligo. (Incitata, you're the best. Love ya!) 


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